When you crack open my skull
You are met with a steaming heap of noodles
Serving for one

For one,
I have touched death
It’s close
And I’m broken

I broke in,
Rattled the bars of my cage
My mane half-silver
With age

With age
My bones creak
The shell-shock on the beach
Sea gunk and sea junk
I’m afraid I have already sunk

Sunken eyes
Darting side to side
While the noodles in my skull
Rest and cease to fry

Friars, Rabbis, Imams and Popes
Where do I pin my hopes?
A futile search while I try to scope
For fuel for my noodles

My noodles
A sad pile of snakes
How do I even begin to rake through these
Sodium-laden
Sadium-laden
Strings on a plate?

© frenchfriesforbirds